Minor references to "Journey to Babel" and "The ultimate computer"
o0o
The first away team searched the Romulan scout. Maybe they hadn't deleted their logs. Uhura spoke Romulan, hopefully she could retrieve some useful information. He'd sent Scotty with her, who'd been on the Romulan scout to help with some repairs only a few days ago. Of course, he'd been under surveillance by the Romulans then. He'd been eager to go on board again, with now being able to snoop around everywhere he wanted. The sensors showed no life-forms on board. However, just to be sure, he had sent three security guards along with them.
The second away team needed to find the rest of the P'Jem's crew - and the missing Romulans. They'd scanned the planet's surface. 132 lifeforms had been detected, possibly the lost crew, very likely even, for there was no intelligent life on the planet elsewhere. The mystery was, why had they left their fully functional ships?
Since it was likely that some of them were injured, he'd requested McCoy to join the landing party, as well as Spock. Being Vulcan, no, half-Vulcan, he could connect with these people, at least he so suspected. Of course, Kirk would also go himself, he was just too curious to stay on board. Besides, it would boost Chekov's self-confidence, being in charge of the bridge. He'd make a fine officer out of him yet.
Kirk was waiting in the transporter room for his CMO and first officer to arrive. Bones had carried the dead body of that nurse to his lab and Spock had followed him on his heels. Strange. Spock was behaving somewhat like a mother hen around Bones.
Kirk shook his head. And Bones had complained to him that he was being overly concerned.
He wasn't surprised when they both arrived at the same time. McCoy was a little ahead of Spock.
"Jim, I'd rather stay here," he said straight on when he saw Kirk waiting for them.
"What? Why?" McCoy never wanted to stay behind. Most of the time he had to invent something for the computer log to make him being a part of the landing party seem justified and logical. He didn't mind. And except for that half-assed M5 computer no one had ever questioned his decisions about the composition of the landing parties. At least no one had ever voiced it openly.
"Well, for one, M'Benga is the expert on Vulcan physiology, not me."
True, however, it had been McCoy and not M'Benga who had performed open-heart surgery on Spock's father, which proved that McCoy at least knew where the Vulcan heart was. Maybe Bones didn't feel quite himself yet?
"And?" Kirk searched McCoy's face.
"I think I have found something important in that body."
"What did you find?"
"A virus. Vulcan flu, if I'm correct, but not quite. It has mutated."
"Well, the Romulans had the Vulcan flu on board and the P'Jem helped them contain it. Maybe the nurse got infected when she was aboard that Romulan scout?"
"That is possible. However, as I said, it is not quite the Vulcan flu."
"Is it dangerous for us?"
"No, it is dead. And I believe it is not compatible to human physiology. It is highly unlikely that a human contracts Vulcan flu. However, humans can be carriers."
"So it may be dangerous for Vulcans?"
"Yes. Look, I want to complete my analysis here. Let M'Benga join you, if he finds the Vulcans to be sick, it's good to already know something about the pathogen."
That sounded - logical. Kirk smiled to himself.
"Alright," he said hesitatingly as he watched Spock who looked - what? Alarmed?
"Captain, maybe I should stay here as well. I could assist the doctor," Spock said quickly, schooling his features back to looking only mildly concerned.
"Actually, Spock, that would be a good idea. If you go down there, you might contract whatever it is they have," McCoy said, "and Jim, you be careful as well! We don't know about the mutation of this virus, but for a human, contracting Vulcan flu is unlikely - but not completely unheard of. So, be careful - no kissing!"
"Why, Bones, you make it sound like I'm some sort of hormone driven letch," Kirk played being offended.
"Those are your words. Not mine."
"That's right. You said zero gravitiy is better."
"I'm an old man, Jim. Bear with me. And more important: Listen to me!"
"Always, Bones. So, I'll see you two when I come back."
McCoy nodded, then left the transporter room, hearing Jim requesting M'Benga to meet him there. Spock was following him closely.
This case had become quite - interesting. He refused to use the word "fascinating", not even in his thoughts. He had a feeling that this virus he'd isolated had something to do with the disappearance of the crews of the two deserted ships - and the murder of the four humans.
"Spock, there's one thing I don't understand," he said when they'd arrived in the laboratory again.
"Only one?" Spock sounded too arrogant, even for himself, McCoy noticed, but decided to ignore it, for once. Other things were on his mind.
"The Romulan Commander said the Vulcan flu had killed a third of his crew."
"Not Commander Tamulok, but Delihan said that," Spock provided impatiently.
"Whoever." McCoy felt a shudder go through him when Spock spoke the name of the man who had forced a mind meld on him, less than a week ago. "I just wonder where they contracted it. The Meriahn didn't know the disease, so they must have had it from somewhere or someone else. Probably even Vulcans."
"Probably," Spock said indifferently, looking at the doctor with a coldness that made McCoy shudder again. What's wrong with me? It's not that Spock ever looks at me particularly affectionately, McCoy thought.
He stepped further away from Spock, to take a look at the computer screen, which showed the alien pathogen, and he found himself feeling more comfortable the more distance he put between Spock and himself. Don't be a fool. Spock would never do anything hurt you. He tried to distract himself.
The virus on the screen was very similar to the virus that caused the Vulcan flu, could be its brother, actually. Well, there's a thought that could make Spock give me a speech about the inappropriateness of the metaphor, or comparison, or whatever it was.
He decided to start a conversation, in order to feel more at ease. "Spock, did you know, that a virus is generally not considered to be a life-form?"
"I do not agree with you."
"Well, you rarely do, don't you? However, I didn't say, that I don't consider a virus to be a life-form. A virus reproduces, doesn't it? Not by itself of course, it needs living cells to do that for it, but I think that is just a smart trick. Now, often enough, even we let other people take care of our reproduction. Think of in-vitro insemination and incubators! Actually, you could say that, like a virus, we give our DNA to someone else who then fabricates our offspring. It is much more clever, since it bears less risk for the mother, don't you think?"
"Do you have a point?"
"No. I'm just thinking aloud. It often proves to be useful," McCoy said, studying the image of the virus, already having forgotten the hostility that he'd thought he'd sensed from Spock before.
"If the Vulcan flu virus mutated, then something went wrong in the fabrication of its baby."
"This is not a deficient product," Spock said, closing the distance to McCoy again.
"No, it isn't, is it? I mean, if anything, it looks as if the Vulcan flu virus was its deficient offspring. This one looks, I don't know, more complex, almost esthetically pleasing."
"Yes."
"Well, ..." McCoy started, and turned, only to find Spock standing behind him at such a close distance that their noses were almost touching, "we, uh, got to find a way to kill it, don't we?"
"That will prove to be difficult for you."
"You may be right. Of course, I could think of many ways to kill it, but they would probably kill its host, too."
McCoy had stepped back just a bit, but Spock was still very near to him. He saw him swaying a little, his pupils were slightly dilated. McCoy reached out to steady him.
"You alright?"
"I need nutrition, I think my blood sugar is too low."
Spock's words spurred a chain of associations in McCoy's brain. Sugar - sweet - sweet spot - zero gravity. He looked at the image again. This could work! Could it be so easy?
"Spock! That delicate structure! I think if we subjected it to a zero gravity environment, the viral envelope would possibly burst. Then, it ..."
He didn't finish his sentence. Spock had gone a few steps back, but now he was holding a scalpel in his right hand, which was pointed at him. He was breathing hard, sweating a bit and, to McCoy's relief, he seemed to be confused, not determined to kill ... yet.
"Is this what you dreamed about, Spock?" he asked. He remembered what Spock had told him this morning about that dream he'd had. It had involved a knife, and stabbing, and lots of blood. McCoy hadn't given it much thought then, hell, he'd thought that Spock had invented it to get him to talk about his nightmares, which he didn't have, actually. Unless of course this was one.
"You will not kill us. We will prevent it," Spock said in a detached manner.
No, no nightmare. He wouldn't wake up in his quarters ... maybe never again. "Did you kill the four people on the P'Jem?" he asked, not really sure who he was talking to. This is Spock, he won't hurt you, he thought but he slowly took a step backwards. If Spock, or whoever was in Spock's body, decided to attack, he was dead. He was no match for the Vulcan, even if Spock didn't have that scalpel but only his bare hands.
"They deserved no better, just as you don't," Spock - no, it said, then started to approach him.
"Spock! Listen, you must fight it!" McCoy implored, looking his Vulcan friend into the eyes. God, he's going to kill me! When he wakes up and realizes what he's done, it will kill him. And then Jim will be all alone and get himself killed in some reckless away mission.
He almost laughed, he'd often heard of the myth that you see your own life in fast motion before your eyes the moment you die. Well it wasn't true. He saw thefuture life of his best friends - and it wasn't good.
For a moment, everything stopped. Time seemed to stand still. He could briefly see recognition in Spock's dark eyes.
Then he felt his back hit the wall.
Spock blinked. "Run!" he whispered, then: "Please, Leonard."
He wanted to say so much. Like: I know, it's not you. Don't blame yourself. Or: Tell Jim, I would have enjoyed our trip to Yosemite. Or: Promise me, you'll visit Joanna one day and tell her about our days on the Enterprise. Or only just: Goodbye, my friend!
But he couldn't. All air seemed to have been sucked out of him. He felt no pain at first, just the absence of air. Then there was a thundering sound in his ears and his vision turned red. Blood red. He saw the scalpel, also blood red and silvery. Kind of nice, actually, so shiny. Pain exploded in his side and he felt the taste of blood in his mouth. Then, blessedly, his world slowly faded to grey.
